


push and pull

by freakydeakymoonmagic



Series: shy of conflict of any kind [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Pichit is the ideal human being, headline: katsuki's eros makes history, mild D/s themes, not even nearly as kinky as I'm making it sound, potential under-negotiated kink, written before watching episode 10, yuuri's a little crazy but he's MY little crazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-16
Packaged: 2018-09-08 22:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8864728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakydeakymoonmagic/pseuds/freakydeakymoonmagic
Summary: Yuuri wears the pants in their relationship; Viktor wears the leather gloves.





	

On your average day, Yuuri is aware he comes off as a mousy librarian type – not in a sexy way. He can’t help it. Whatever he may or may not be on the ice, regular old Yuuri is sort of hopelessly dopey.

There’s no point in changing it at this point; he’s accepted that it’s just who he is. The constant thrum of social discomfort has become a comfortable baseline in his life. The thrum reboots itself in the locker room, when he’s one leg out of the dark costume and one leg in. Pichit swoops in and slaps his back congratulatorily, endlessly friendly. Yuuri stumbles a little. Awkwardness drapes back over him, a familiar blanket.

“It’s an honor to share the ice with you, my friend! You made history today!” Pichit looks happier than most people look when their first child is born. This reinstates Yuuri’s faith in his ability to judge character; if he’s managed to keep people like Pichit and Viktor and Yuri and Minako around, clearly he knows how to pick them. He murmurs his thanks and compliments Pichit on his short program. JJ is uncharacteristically silent as he exits the dressing room, an acid washed leg beyond the row of lockers, moving out of sight. The rest of the skaters have already come and gone. Interviewers hungry for answers had held Yuuri up and the other two were the last to go on. He hastens to throw on his track suit, disliking the feeling an empty locker room can give off.

Viktor is leaning against the wall facing the locker room, a great satiated cat. Wordlessly, he spreads his arms again, welcoming yet another hug. Yuuri goes to him. It probably looks weird to the other people wandering through the hall. Yuuri almost doesn’t care anymore. The hug is warm and safe, even if neither of them are smiling.

There’s a strange sobriety as they head out to hail a cab. By all rights, they should be ready to hit the town – well, maybe not the night before the free program, but really, they should at least be in a celebratory mood. Neither of them are. 

On the cab ride back to the hotel, the bubble of quiet is preserved. A nameless emotion hangs suspended in the air, undemanding and peaceful. Yuuri’s grateful; it gives him space to think.

In the moment, it had wound up being glorious. Upon further review, it was sort of scary. And Yuuri’s not a live-in-the-moment kind of guy.

There’s no question that the mystifying state he’d been in, possibly induced by ranting lewdly at Viktor, had gotten results. But it had been so vulnerable, losing total control in front of the judges and the crowd and the whole world like that – he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to do it again. Maybe in the privacy of an empty rink, or perhaps with Viktor as his only audience. Maybe then. Not in competition. And performing better could have been a one-off – at the Cup of China, it had made him sloppy, gold or no. At this rate, it feels like there’s a real danger Yuuri might skate himself into a coma or something. Not worth it.

Okay, plus it’ll be fucking embarrassing to go back through the footage with Viktor right beside him, when they both know precisely what inspires this kind of insanity in Yuuri.

Well, it’s probably unfair of him to give Viktor all the credit. Skating generally also makes him crazy. Together, they make him a bit of a powder keg. The point is, just from the short clips he’d seen, it was immediately obvious that there was something very . . . raw about it? Sexually charged? Something too honest, anyway. Not anything he wants on international television, not without his consent. Even if it hurts his scores. It’s nice to know there’s a place he can draw the line.

Idly, he checks his phone. There’s curt text from Yuri.

nice going piggy

This flatters Yuuri more than anything else that’s happened tonight. He hands the phone to Viktor without context, who smiles, eyes him warmly, and hands it back. They both go back to gazing, Viktor out the window and Yuuri at the carpeted interior of the car. Other than giving the address to the cabbie, no one’s said a word.

Viktor’s normally the kind of person who chats endlessly with people driving him places and people sitting next him on planes and people standing next to him in lines – especially if they don’t recognize him. This is new. In fact, they make it all the way up into Viktor’s hotel room without speaking. The door unlocks with a flash and a beep. Suddenly, they’re alone again.

They take off their coats, more a result of muscle memory than intention. Viktor sinks onto the end of the bed; Yuuri joins him. They sit there in the dark for a moment, still silent, knees angled toward one another. Something is changing. And they can both feel it.

Plucking the remote control from the coffee table, Viktor powers on the TV. The bright screen glows blue and white on their faces in the gloom of the room, a distant hum of warbling voices a necessary background noise.

It’s quiet moments like these Yuuri wonders about his life purpose.

Skating is everything to him, almost always has been. When it comes to competing, though – it got to the point where he was so incapable of actually performing when push came to shove that the only reason he kept at it, kept lacing up and dragging his feet along the rink, was for simple love of the sport. He just enjoyed being out there more than he hated it. Simple math.

Next to Viktor, that seems like a lacking purpose. Next Viktor, most things seem lacking. 

If he’s being honest, Yuuri has spent the last several months waiting to fuck up big enough to push Viktor away for good. And come to think of it, that’s probably why he’d distanced himself so determinedly from Viktor every time he tried to ingratiate himself closer. Head it off at the pass, keep himself a stranger; that was the best way to prevent Viktor from breaking his heart in full when he inevitably bailed out. That way, Viktor could only declare Yuuri’s skating unworthy. If he never got the chance to know Yuuri as a person, Viktor wouldn’t be able to declare him a waste of time, too.

Yuuri’s considered the possibility that he has an inferiority complex. He’s not convinced.

“Well,” Viktor exclaims out of nowhere, clapping his hands on his knees with finality, as if they’ve just had a great long discussion. He still hasn’t taken of his gloves. “Where are we going from here?”

It’s truly a wonder Viktor hasn’t complained of whiplash. The constant push-and-pull between them. The give and take. The kiss in public and the hugging in private. Viktor in charge in all ways right up until Yuuri’s switch gets flipped. It’s what makes them click, Yuuri thinks. Even it means they’re both a little crazy.

But what if Viktor wants kiss in private, too? Of course Yuuri is amenable, Yuuri is The Most Amenable, but what if it changes how he skates—his sexual and romantic frustration has been directly responsible for the best skating of his entire career—

Very gently, Viktor boops him on the nose.

“Don’t overthink it, Yuuri.” Yeah, because that had gone well the last time Viktor told him something along those lines, not two hours ago. Well, perhaps by Viktor’s measure, it actually had gone well. He had seemed to . . . enjoy it, after a fashion.

Even still, there’s a danger inherent in Yuuri acting on his desire for Viktor. If the fierce tornado of his emotions finally find their outlet, it is very within the realm of possibility that they still won’t be able to fuel him when he’s on the ice.

“W-What if . . . “

“What if what?”

“Don’t you think there’s a chance . . .” Viktor’s eyebrows are high on his face, inflated in expectance. It occurs to Yuuri now that it is also very within the realm of possibility that they’re talking about two entirely separate things. 

Only one way to find out, and that’s to finish his sentence. “I won’t be able to – motivate myself properly? For competitions? Before you became my coach, I . . .” 

Viktor sighs heavily. “I know.”

Oh, thank god.

“C-could we test whether it changes things? You know, see if it hurts my skating before we – do anything rash?”

“Yes, we can take it slow. Ease you in.” Viktor takes Yuuri’s hand in his own, traces the lines on his palm. “Touch a little and see if you preform differently.”

“Aren’t you scared? If people find out and you go back to Russia, can’t they arrest you? Won’t people there hate you?” It feels a cruel thing to ask. Viktor has thrived off of the adoration and jealousy of the people for so long now, he might not even be able to adapt to being reviled.

Viktor’s eyes flicker as he tucks a bit of hair behind Yuuri’s ear. “Some things are worth it.”

He’d wondered, blinking up at his bedroom ceiling these bewildering last several months, if he wasn’t carefully sculpting him to be the ideal competition for Viktor himself. Focusing on Viktor’s own weakness and building them up in Yuuri. His stamina, his emotional investment, his attachment to the music. Viktor takes the whole ‘lonely at the top’ thing to new extremes. But the presumptuousness of it had made him shy away from the idea. Of all the people in the world, Yuuri is the least likely to give Viktor a run for his money.

In this moment, Yuuri unilaterally decides that Viktor’s original intentions don’t matter now, not nearly as much his intentions today – his intentions tonight. If Viktor is willing to risk imprisonment for this, Yuuri at least owes him some honesty.

“I shouldn’t be too worried about getting motivated for competitions.” He ducks his head, can’t make eye contact for this. “Viktor, you’re why I skate. . . You’ve been half of everything I do for a long time now.”

Movingly, Viktor cups a palm over his mouth, takes a moment. It reminds Yuuri strongly of his reaction to the quadruple flip he’d done in Beijing. Hopefully, Yuuri’s about to get another kiss. They haven’t, since.

As it turns out, he is.

Viktor drops his hand from his mouth abruptly and presses his gloved hands to both sides of Yuuri’s head, lips sweeping in so very much like the first time. Yuuri likes it, Yuuri’s glad. It feels good, loving. But when Viktor shifts the positioning of his hands to turn Yuuri’s head this way and that, that switch at the animal heart of him gets flipped.

His arms move, body shifting forward, and just like that he’s holding Viktor down. They hit the bed with a soft bounce. There’s a surprisingly splotchy blush climbing on Viktor’s neck, blue eyes blown wide, just like that. Yuuri has him firmly by the wrists, resting the bulk of his weight on them as he stretches out over the warm body below, on his knees. Hopefully, Yuuri’s not about to get headbutted.

He should get up and move away before asking, should have asked before he’d done it, but it feels so right. “Ah, sorry. Is this – Viktor, is this okay?”

Viktor exhales measuredly, closes his eyes. It’s nerve wracking not to know what’s going on in his head. “Yuuri, it’s more than okay.”

“It is?”

“Yes.”

“So we could . . . stay like this for a while?” 

“Yuuri, I’d love that.” Yuuri’s hands tighten of their own accord. Fascinatingly, it makes Viktor’s lips part, a stricken little exhale. “Have you ever done this before?” He shuffles up, folds his legs under himself in order to more sit on Viktor than lean over him. Much more comfortable. Definitely no good in straining anything tonight.

Viktor has to think about it before answering the question. “Not as such.” Yuuri pretends to ponder this for a moment before asking, “What does that mean?”

There’s something in the way Viktor’s head lolls to the side that makes Yuuri think he’d rather not be talking. It’s an instinct: before he can even second guess it, Yuuri finds himself bowing his head in, letting his lips hang close enough to just barely brush the sensitive skin of Viktor’s cheek as his mouth moves to form words. “Tell me.” From this vantage point, he can feel the air get sucked harder into Viktor’s mouth. See him blink once, twice, three times in a row. His smile grows against Viktor’s cheek.

“I’ve had sex with men before, but never a real relationship. It was smarter to stick with women. Whom I enjoy also.”

How interesting to know. “And this?” Yuuri emphasizes his meaning with a small shake of Viktor’s wrists in his hands.

“This is new.”

“Huh.”

“What can I say, Yuuri? You bring out hidden depths in me.” Yuuri leans his forehead against Viktor’s and admits, “And you me.” That much is obvious.

They lay there quietly for a short while. It’s peaceful as hell, and Yuuri couldn’t really say why. Their whole relationship is totally inexplicable.

Actually, they lay there long enough for Yuuri to start to get a little bit bored. And that’s its own kind of luxury, having so much time one on one up in Viktor Nikiforov’s personal space that he can grow restless and idle in it. He winds up nosing at Viktor’s cheek to entertain himself. When Viktor doesn’t do anything fascinating, Yuuri aims to exhale over his closed mouth, just to see what happens. This works a little better: there’s a slight flutter of eyelashes. When he presses his mouth under the corner of Viktor’s jaw and tries humming against it, he finally gets a good reaction. The chest below him bells out and Viktor chokes out a breath near his ear.

It feels weird to act like this, all bossy and proprietary, with his glasses still on. Like two worlds are jaggedly merging.

“I understand why you tease me, now.”

“Oh?” Viktor asks, breathy. He’s coquettish, but the affectation of it is thin.

“Yeah. When you react so well, it’s hard to resist. I must do the same thing.” Viktor sighs fondly, eyes slit in delighted relaxation. “Yuuri, you’re so blunt!”

“I think you like it.”

The timing is objectively terrible. But damn, if this isn’t worth risking gold for, then probably nothing is.


End file.
